


Firsts

by Jester85



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Drabble, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time Bottoming, First Time Topping, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 19:57:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5553335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jester85/pseuds/Jester85
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky is Steve's first....first friend, first kiss, first sex, first love.....first everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Firsts

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at Stucky (even though I am an enthusiastic reader and have written other fanfic before), so.....have mercy.

The first time Steven Grant Rogers met James Buchanan Barnes, he was flat on his back in a Brooklyn alleyway, dirt on his Sunday best and the sickly sweet tang of blood in his nose, and an angel with a mop of curly dark hair was reaching down for him.

_James Buchanan Barnes.  But my friends call me 'Bucky'._

By the time they dashed out into the streets, Bucky was still holding his hand.  Steve felt a flush of warmth flooding his sickly heart, and it occurred to him that maybe this was what friendship felt like.

Later, he'd realize it was what something else felt like too.

 

*** * ***

 

The first time Steve found out what someone's lips on his own felt like, they were sitting Indian-style facing each other, knees touching, on the floor of Winifred Barnes' living room.  

Bucky's lips tasted like cream soda, his breath a puff of nervousness against Steve's face, and the hand that slid up to grasp his skinny shoulder was shaking like a leaf.

They didn't talk about it for a while, but actions spoke louder than words anyway.

 

*** * ***

 

The first time Steve found out how it felt to be touched  _there_ by someone besides yourself, he was sprawled on Bucky's bed and Bucky was hovering half on top of him, one hand down Steve's pants and his own hardness grinding into Steve's bony hip.  Bucky's breath stuttered a symphony of nerves and desire into Steve's burning cheek.

Steve went off like a rocket, and he was sure his face looked like a beet, but Bucky just laughed, and then Steve learned how to touch someone else.

 

*** * ***

 

The first time Steve tried to give a blowjob, he was sure he was messing it all up, it seemed too big in his mouth to do much of anything with it.  His cheeks were red with embarrassment and he was sure he was doing terrible, and those girls Bucky was used to were probably so much better at it than he was, and Bucky would leave him (but he couldn't leave him, they were only friends to begin with), but Bucky's fingers were in his hair, massaging his scalp gently, and Bucky was murmuring a litany of words, " _Jesus, Stevie.....fuck"_ that would have had Mother Superior rapping his knuckles raw.

Steve kept at it.  He didn't back down from a fight, after all.

 

*** * ***

 

The first time Bucky fucked Steve, it was a hot sticky summer evening, skin sliding against bare skin and Steve bent like a pretzel, knobby knees shoved up to his chest.  

Bucky was drunk, stumbling in the door, cheeky grin on his face and eyes dark with lust, looking at Steve the only he'd only let himself look at dames for a while now, because they were growing up and they were supposed to leave childish games behind, and when that predatory gaze landed smack on him, Steve felt a pool of heat swell in his guts, and he knew tonight was gonna be somethin' different.

Steve was a little drunk, not as much as Bucky, not enough to not know what they were doing, but just enough to not be afraid, to give himself to Buck and let himself be carried to the bedroom and undressed and laid down, and " _How different can it be from doing it with a dame?_ ", Bucky had asked, as if Steve knew anything about doing it with dames, and anyway Steve was the one cast in the "dame" role, but while he knew little of sex, he was pretty sure he didn't have the proper parts for what they were trying to do, and things were being shoved into places they weren't supposed to go in.

But other men did this, didn't they?  Bucky said they did, anyway.

_"How different can it be from doing it with a dame?"_

Well, it turned out it was a lot different, actually, and even with the vaseline to make it slick, it hurt like the dickens, hurt worse than any beatdown Steve had ever had in his life, but not quite enough to make Bucky stop because damn it, he wanted this, he'd wanted it for a while, and Steve Rogers didn't back down from a fight.

The night was stifling, and sweat-soaked skin glided against sweat-soaked skin, and Steve stared up at the stained ceiling and gasped in a confusing, overwhelming mix of pain and  _yesmorefuck_ as Bucky sucked his mark into his collarbone.  His own cock was only half-hard now, the friction of Bucky's body sprawled close over his keeping the embers of pleasure burning in his gut against the pain as Bucky moved inside him, and his narrow chest heaved with ragged breath, and " _shh, baby_ " scorched like flame across his lips and Bucky's tongue was in his mouth.

Bucky came a few minutes after Steve started to wish he would, and Steve didn't come at all, but that face Bucky made at the end, damn if Steve wouldn't be seeing that in his dreams.

 

*** * ***

 

Steve woke up with sweat-soaked sheets tangled around his naked body with light streaming in the window and a faint headache throbbing at his temple, surpassed by the soreness in his rear.

Buck sat at the edge of the bed, facing away, staring at some spot on the floor, and Steve admired the ripple of muscles in his back with every slight motion.

The rustle of sheets turned Bucky's face to his, and his eyes looked sad, sadder than Steve had ever seen, and his hand was out to Buck's cheek before he knew what it was doing, because he never wanted Buck to be sad like that.

" _I hurt ya, Stevie.  Ya don' gotta lie."_

Steve didn't deny it, not exactly, but he quirked a smile and brushed Bucky's hair away from his eyes.

"Pretty sure you had a bit more to drink last night than me, Buck.  And, case ya don't remember, I wasn't exactly fightin' you off."  The admission made his cheeks flush, because what man admits that he liked getting fucked like a dame, that hell, he'd even let Buck do it to him again sometime, but Bucky took his hand and kissed his palm with a gentleness that made Steve's breath hitch and little butterflies flutter around in his heart, and now he was really feeling like a dame, and then Bucky was kissing him, and Steve opened up to him easily, and Bucky ghosted _"sorry"_ in a blazing trail of heat across Steve's skin, down his narrow chest and flat stomach until he went where he'd never gone before and Steve cried and saw stars.

Bucky didn't bring any more dames home after that. 

 

*** * ***

 

Years later, after Erskine, after Zola, after finding his  _best guy_ strapped to a table that wasn't fit for a lab rat, after Bucky seized him the second they were out of sight of the Commandos behind the closed and locked doors of  _Captain America_ 's personal quarters, eyes dark and haunted in a way Steve had never seen before, and rasped " _make me forget about it, Stevie_ " in a voice that sounded like some stranger he'd never met, Steve did his best to bring his best guy back from the dead.  

And after, sprawled and fucked-out on crisp sheets of fine French linen, Bucky stared at the ceiling and ran his tongue over his teeth--and what had Steve learned about all the things Buck could do with that tongue---and he sounded like Bucky Barnes again when he said, easy as anything, " _You're getting' about as good at fuckin' as me, Stevie"_ , and they laughed like schoolkids.

 

*** * ***

 

Two more inches.  Maybe three.  

He just needed to stretch a little further.  He was Captain America.  He could have done it.

Bucky was there.  Buck was  _right there_ , and then he just wasn't.  And Steve was left staring at an empty broken train guard rail, his eyes scanning an icy canyon where the body of his best guy was laying somewhere, sinking forever into a grave of ice and snow.

Bucky was there.  And then he just wasn't.  And the hole he'd torn in Steve's soul as he fell was a void that super-serum, 70 years, S.H.I.E.L.D., or The Avengers could never fill.

 

*** * ***

 

Eyes that had been two chips of blue ice, the remorseless eyes of a killer, brimming with tears.

A look in them Steve had seen 70 years ago, when Bucky thought he'd hurt him in bed.  

The Soldier's black hair whipped around in his face in wind blown on fire and ash, the Helicarrier falling to Earth like a dying Valkyrie.  So different from his Bucky, who never let his hair get long or unkempt, who would never have done the things that.....but as Steve plunged to earth, his soul leapt skyward, because  _ **Bucky.**_

 

*** * ***

 

The clasp of silver metal fingers against his own felt cold, but the blue eyes gazing into his own were soft and warm, and Steve saw a mop-haired angel reaching down to pluck a skinny runt out of the alley garbage in another lifetime.

The face before him was not exactly Bucky Barnes, it had his features, but older than he'd known him, more in experiences than in years, his eyes more somber, his smile coming more slowly.

But the voice that whispered "I do" was Buck's, and the lips on his own were the taste he knew, the taste that felt like  _home._

He wasn't the same Bucky Barnes, but he was Bucky.  And Steve wasn't the same Steve Rogers, but he was Steve.

Everything else, they'd figure out.  They had the rest of their lives.

 


End file.
